


Have You Seen Charlie?

by milliebrown



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:00:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23305702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milliebrown/pseuds/milliebrown
Summary: A short horror story. Children are disappearing and seeing things in town.





	Have You Seen Charlie?

Have you seen Charlie? I have. Ben and Veronica too. I saw him first though. Saw him out back behind the sand dunes. Almost pissed myself. My mom told me that when something unbelievable is happening: “And I mean, really, unbelievable, honey. Like a giant bear with even bigger lobster claws, or the oceans in the sky, the sky’s under your feet, but you’re not fallen...” 

My mom loves to cup my cheeks when she’s on a ramble, her hands warm and a little rough from working hard. “... You just pinch yourself, real hard, to see if you’re dreaming.” 

Seeing Charlie there, I was frozen stiff but hot from the racing beat of my heart. It took a shaky hand and two tries to get a good pinch in. Pinched myself so hard it hurt lots and left a bruise. 

Poor Charlie died. He had been ‘obliterated’ as my dad put it. By a great fall from a tall bridge onto cold, hard concrete. And he was there, standing in broad daylight. Still there, even after I pinched myself one more time.

He looked alright, alive even-- until he didn’t. 

When he moved, his bones shook and raddled. His skin slack and stretchy. Shattered ankles barely supported him, but he still moved towards me at an unnervingly fast pace.

I turned around and bolted. Felt like uprooting my own legs from the ground. Didn’t look back. But I could hear him. Didn’t stop running, even when my sides cramped so back I felt like I could puke. Only when I couldn’t hear that rattle any longer did I slow to a power walk for a quick breath as I hurried home, locked all the doors, and hid behind a bright TV, under the protection of my favorite blanket. 

No adult believed me, of course. No matter how much I cried and insisted. Charlie’s ghost stories buzzed around North Fade Middle School. Teachers shrugged it off as yet another urban legend. 

Not everybody has seen him. But those who have swear they weren’t dreaming, or tired, or seeing things; or the favored response, us kids with our overactive imagination and boredom. We ain’t making up stories, we ain’t no liars either. 

My mom thinks we just miss him. I keep telling her that we never talked. I don’t miss him, doubt anybody but his mom and dad really do. Kid was a loner. 

Dad is sure me and ‘the other brats’ are just pulling their legs. Like it’s some kind of prank or something... 

Last night... last night I swear I heard him. Out there... rattling in the streets. I only had the courage to pop open one eye, just to look at the time: 2:50 am. 

I slammed my pillow over my head, willed myself to go back to sleep. 

Veronica, who’s seen him twice now, lived two doors down from me, approached me in a hurry, the morning after at the bus stop. 

“Did you hear it?” she asked, orange juice breath on my face. Doe eyes, eager.

I shook my head. 

My answer didn’t seem to comfort her. She looked behind her. Cautious, like she’d see Charlie at any moment. 

“What’s he doing down our street?” A question to no one in general.

Veronica acted all out of whack for the rest of the day. Jumping at ordinary sounds and gentle touches. Fidgeting in class. Constantly looking over her shoulder. By the end of the school day, Ben was saying she needed to be committed. 

By dinner time her parents were knocking on our door, asking if we’d seen their daughter. She never came home from school. 

I knew Charlie had something to do with it. This nasty little pit in my stomach wouldn’t let me think anything to the contrary. 

I said nothing. Dad already forbid the subject. I could just hear his angry tangent. About the disrespect, how tasteless, how childish could I be? ‘Grow up’ he would’ve barked. 

The rattle came again that night. 2:47 am-- right outside my window. 

I managed to slip out of bed. Couldn’t stand being so close to the sound. The terror was unbearable. Carefully I crawled on hands and knees under my window. Too afraid to stand and risk casting incriminating shadows. 

“Lonely!” Even his voice sounded like a rattle like he had bones in his voice box. Words choking on spit and blood.

I froze but only long enough to hear: “Still lonely...” 

In a blind panic, I shot up to my feet. Don’t even remember opening the door. Or the time it took to get to my parent's room. Dad was working the night shift. Lucky me. I hadn’t considered his wrath. My mom welcomed me. She held me close, half asleep, she mumbled, “Your hearts going so fast.”

“Yeah.” 

“Had a nightmare?” 

“Mm. Yeah.” 

Hugging me tighter she said, “Well it’s over now, sweetie.” 

It wasn’t. 

I’m writing this fast. Little light. I begged to sleep with them tonight. But dad’s off tonight, and he said no. 

Charlie, he’s... under my bed. He’s been crying and crying. He’s still lonely. He says it wasn’t an accident. Says he climbed over the railing and jumped. To cure the loneliness. I can’t move... I hear him rattling... 


End file.
